Saddest Poem

by Pablo Neruda

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

To Be Hollow

author unknown

How do you master blocking off a memory
When you smell a familiar scent?
I wonder, what makes feelings fall off like dried leaves?

How do you rip it off—
as if no single heartbeat has been left?
Did you hide it so deep and got lost finding it?

How could your tears fall
and not feel any pain?

When do you stop hoping?
That the next one is the last;
What's the sign that you finally realize
That forever doesn’t last?

Which one is worth the time—
Worth the touch,
worth the kiss,
worth days and the night.

Did you lose it?
How did you finally get tired of it—
When did you give up from wanting more?
(How about quitting from giving more?)

How do I stop the voice?
...from wanting it to be you?